


sure thing falling

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [26]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Marriage, M/M, Selkie Lance (Voltron), Selkies, Werewolf Keith (Voltron), Werewolf Shiro (Voltron), Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, urban fantasy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-21 12:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: The kid leaned into the bar, both elbows on the bar top. "I'm not a kid," he said, his grin somehow dangerous. He tilted his head in toward Shiro, and there was a glimmer in his blue eyes that didn't seem quite natural. "My name is Lance."Shiro held out his right hand, and Lance didn't hesitate in taking it. "Shiro," Shiro said, and expected a shake. Instead, Lance tugged his right hand toward him, drawing it toward his mouth and kissing the prosthetic's knuckles. Shiro yanked his hand away and looked around sharply but the usual clientele of the dive weren't paying attention to what happened at the bar. They probably wouldn't notice if a truck drove straight through the front of the building again, if Shiro was being honest.





	1. Meetings

"Buy me a drink?"

Shiro tilted his head, frowned, and then looked to his left. He wasn't certain that he was being addressed, at first ... but the dive bar wasn't exactly hopping at seven o'clock on a Thursday, and as far as he could tell he was the only person actually seated at the bar. He dragged his bottle on the polished wood bar top and slowly looked the speaker up and down.

Lithe and a bit lanky, warm brown skin and soft eyes, with short hair that curled a little at its tips, and looking _far_ too young to be haunting Sal's. Shiro snorted and took a pull off his lager. "Nice try, kid," he said, the gruff edge to his tone intentional. "You should beat it before someone starts carding." That someone being him, probably, if the kid didn't take a hint and leave - he was off shift tonight but when his choices were 'sit in a mostly-empty cabin and drink shitty beer' or 'sit at work and drink shitty but free beer' the cards would always come down on the side of 'free.'

"I'll buy you a drink, then," the kid said, and leaned forward, waving at Matt. Matt raised his eyebrow at Shiro but didn't anything to him as the kid ordered two drinks; actual _drinks_ and not the shitty beer that Shiro was nursing. Shiro watched Matt work with half an eye; Matt wouldn't go straight for the watered-down liquor if he knew the patrons were watching but the kid had eyes only for Shiro, so watered-down it was. Shiro honestly didn't get paid enough to care how the owner was ripping off the town's drunks - he was probably keeping his regulars alive longer by watering down their nightly booze if he was being honest.

Either way, he gave Matt a look through the streak of white in his hair, and Matt shrugged his shoulders without moving his arms, setting the drinks in front of Shiro's suitor. Transaction concluded, Matt moved down the bar to attend to two regulars who had stumbled into some of the stools in search of more liquor.

"Kid," Shiro said, adding an exaggerated sigh onto the end of his tone, "look, I'm not..." he turned his gaze back in time to see him downing the second drink, the first glass already completely empty. Shiro stared at him for a long moment, taken by surprise, as he placed the second glass back on the bar top and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, exhaling loudly.

"What?" he said, innocently. "I said I'd _buy_ you a drink, never said I'd let you drink it." He smacked his lips. "Besides, they were about as strong as one drink together, weak as hell."

Another pause, and then Shiro laughed out of sheer disbelief. He propped his prosthetic right elbow on the bar and cradled his chin in his hand, still looking at him. "You got some balls, kid," he said, more amused than not.

The kid leaned into the bar, both elbows on the bar top. "I'm not a kid," he said, his grin somehow dangerous. He tilted his head in toward Shiro, and there was a glimmer in his blue eyes that didn't seem quite natural. "My name is Lance."

Shiro held out his right hand, and Lance didn't hesitate in taking it. "Shiro," Shiro said, and expected a shake. Instead, Lance tugged his right hand toward him, drawing it toward his mouth and kissing the prosthetic's knuckles. Shiro yanked his hand away and looked around sharply but the usual clientele of the dive weren't paying attention to what happened at the bar. They probably wouldn't notice if a truck drove straight through the front of the building again, if Shiro was being honest.

"Shiro," Lance said thoughtfully, considering the name. "Sounds mysterious." He smiled, not at all rattled by Shiro's reaction. "Not from around here then, I take it, Shiro?"

"...no." Shiro clasped his beer tight with his left hand and tucked his right arm against him, still leaning against the bar. "I'm not." He glanced back down the bar but Matt was very much Minding His Own Business and making a show of drying off glassware and not looking at Shiro and his new buddy.

Oh, he was going to _get_ Matt for this. This was a set-up.

_But._

Lance was willowy, lean but strong, and now that he was actually _eyeing_ him, he looked like a fair bit of a meal. He was exactly Shiro's type and he knew that _Matt_ knew that, and now he wasn't going to let his knowledge of Matt meddling in his life stop him from having a good time. "So," Shiro said, finishing off the dregs in his bottle of shitty beer and putting it down on the bar top hard. "You gonna buy me an actual drink, or what?"

Lance smirked.

##

Takashi Shirogane had honestly had _way_ worse ideas than taking a one-night stand home to his dingy cabin nestled off a long foot-path not far from the main road. He couldn't afford a room in the single motel in this run-down town, heck, he could barely afford the upkeep on the cabin he'd found abandoned and taken it upon himself to renovate. Lance didn't seem to care about the walk back to his place, though, arm tucked through Shiro's as they leaned against each other, stumbling the half-mile out of town and into the woods. It was dark but the moonlight showed them the way, the waxing moon illuminating the road where no streetlights marked the path.

"It's so quiet," Lance said, head leaned into Shiro's shoulder as they walked. It _was_ quiet, it often was when Shiro passed through but after they both noticed the silence the insects began chattering again and filling the after-midnight air.

"I like the quiet," Shiro said.

Lance tasted salty, like the ocean air. Shiro kissed him just outside the door and again just inside it, tasted his warm brown skin as he trailed his mouth down his chest, Lance's hand tight in his hair. They dropped clothing as they went, Shiro sliding Lance's jacket down his shoulders and Lance pulling Shiro's shirt up over his head, spreading his hands over the broad, flat planes of his chest. His eyes flickered to where the prosthetic joined his skin near his shoulder, but Shiro didn't say anything about it so Lance didn't either, hands already on the buckle of Shiro's belt.

Shiro's bed was a mess before they fell on it together, mattress and box spring piled on the floor and no headboard to bang against the wall. Shiro hadn't brought anyone back here before, hadn't even dreamed of coming home with company, but Lance didn't say a word about it if he even noticed; straddling Shiro and watching him with a smug expression as he rode Shiro slow. Shiro swallowed hard, hands gripping Lance's thighs as he watched Lance move over him, the light still on in the main room throwing a stripe of brightness across the bed.

Lance was good, sensuous; he moved like the ocean, rising and falling in sinuous waves. He tossed his head, brown hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration, and watched Shiro closely thought half-lidded eyes. This clearly wasn't his first rodeo and Shiro was _not_ complaining, the complete opposite of it and if he didn't get Lance off his cock soon he'd do something he regretted; so Shiro shifted and rolled them on the bed, pushing Lance into the mattress beneath him without slipping entirely out.

Lance let out a little cry, a short, shocked sob and then rocked again against Shiro's hips as Shiro eyeballed their connection in the dim light. He wasn't in deep enough for any issues to arise so he continued to fuck Lance shallowly, counting each sobbing breath that Lance let escape a victory.

" _More_ ," Lance gasped, clawing at Shiro's thigh. Shiro couldn't give him more, he _wouldn't;_ he wouldn't reveal that side of himself to anyone, especially not a silly one-night stand. He gripped Lance's legs tight, slipping his hands back over the curve of his ass and tried to hold him off, cock sliding shallow and fast over the sensitive nerve endings. Lance whined and squirmed, trying to entice Shiro deeper but at this point it couldn't happen even if he wanted to give into it, so he distracted Lance by gripping his cock in one hand and stroking him through to his orgasm.

Shiro didn't come inside. He left Lance half-delirious and somewhat passed-out in the bed and took himself to the bathroom, stroking himself to completion under the bright, unfeeling lights of the bathroom, door mostly closed behind him. The knot had fully formed under his skin and he palmed it, squeezed it and groaned as he came finally, trying in vain to keep his seed contained for an easier clean-up. He couldn't let Lance see his abnormality ... not that many people even _knew_ what it was or what it meant, but the less he had to explain, the better. He was sick of moving on, town to town, and while this was a shitty little coastal village in the middle of nowhere he had found some measure of peace here and was intending on keeping it.

He cleaned up quietly, and when he cracked the door to the bathroom, lights out behind him, Lance was sleeping peacefully in his bed. Shiro smiled, the man (not a _kid_ , Lance's eyes teased experience though his body belied his youth) had curled up on his side, a contented expression firmly in place. He was torn a moment, felt the buzzing need to crawl into bed beside Lance, slinging his arm up over his side and nuzzling into the back of his head ... but, that would be bad. He couldn't afford to get attached to anyone else. _One-night stands only,_ Shiro reminded himself firmly; and left Lance to sleep alone, in his bed.

##

Shiro honestly didn't expect Lance to still be in his cabin when he returned, dawn a rosy blush on the horizon. The sky was a blossoming pink; there were storms coming, he could smell them in the ocean air ... but for now, the wind was calm.

Shiro hauled the deer he'd hunted to exhaustion around back to clean the carcass. It was fully daylight by the time he stepped inside, naked and covered in viscera from his kill, and he froze in place when he realized that Lance was sitting on his couch, wrapped in a worn blanket and drinking a cup of coffee from Shiro's only clean mug. "Huh," Lance said, looking him up and down. "Most people wear clothes when they clean a kill."

"I'm not most people," Shiro said, and made for the bathroom.

He showered and changed, pulling his hair into a loose ponytail before emerging in clean clothes and barefoot. Lance was still nestled on his couch but his mug was now sitting empty, balanced on the armrest, and he was leafing through the book of folklore that Shiro had left overturned on the table. "No television?" Lance said without looking up, sounding deeply disappointed.

"No," Shiro said shortly, stopping in the doorway. He watched Lance browse for a minute, slightly bemused. "What are you still doing here?" he asked, finally. "Most people would have left by now, it's not like the road's difficult to find in daylight."

"Mm," Lance said, pausing on one of the pages and scanning it curiously. Then he looked up, catching Shiro's eye directly, as he threw Shiro's own words back at him mischievously. "I'm _not_ most people." Shiro was unimpressed, so Lance closed his book and set it on his lap. "What's for breakfast?" he asked instead.

"I already ate," Shiro said.

"Did you?" Lance didn't seem surprised at that. He also hadn't been surprised - or _scared_ \- of Shiro walking through the front door covered in blood. That made Shiro slightly uneasy, because people who didn't startle easy _always_ meant trouble. "I was hoping we could hit up the diner on Main for breakfast before I left, my friend's probably worried about me."

_We?_ "I'm not keeping you," Shiro said. "Feel free." He stepped past the couch and moved to the kitchen, but Lance didn't stir from his position on the couch. He stayed put, except shifting so that he could watch over the back of the couch as Shiro bustled around the kitchen, rinsing out the least-grody looking mug and filling it with the last of the coffee. Finally, Shiro leaned against the door frame that separated the main room from the kitchen, mug held between both hands. "How long, exactly, were you planning on staying?" he asked finally, the edge of frustration evident in his tone.

Lance tilted his head and frowned at Shiro. "What sort of question is that?" he asked.

"I have shit to do." Shiro said pointedly.

"Like, what, get drunk and illegally hunt more deer?" Lance toyed with the mug in his hands. "Interesting that I didn't hear any gunshots, though I suppose that might just draw the attention of the sheriff and I get the feeling you want to avoid that, living on the edge of town like you are."

"Look, I don't know how much plainer I can be about this," Shiro said. "Leave." He jerked his head toward the door. "This was a one-off sort of deal, I'm not looking for a relationship, kid."

"That's a pity." Lance was still making no effort at rising from the couch or emerging from his nest of blankets. "See, here's the thing." He blinked innocently at Shiro. "You removed my coat."

"Yeah?"

Lance smiled at him, the expression one almost of pity. "And then we fucked."

"No shit, I was there."

"Which means," Lance drew his legs up onto the couch, hidden mostly under the patchwork blanket he had wrapped himself in. "That we're married."

The silence stretched a full two minutes as Shiro rewound the entire night in his head and tried to isolate any tell that he'd picked up a clinically insane person instead of a quick fuck at the bar. _Well_ , the mean little voice in the back of his head said, _he did go home with you and you look like an ax murderer, didn't he?_

Pointedly ignoring that voice, Shiro exhaled once. "Yeah, okay," he said, and then pointed to the door. "Get out of my house."

##

Lance left after that, without much fuss, thankfully, although he did give Shiro a _very_ dirty look in all of it. Shiro tried to put the event out of his mind ... it was too good to be true, finding someone who was definitely His Type and even getting laid out of the bargain, and if he found out that Matt set him up with the town crazy person he was going to have to whoop Matt's ass personally for the indignation. When Keith heard about it, Shiro knew he wouldn't hear the end of it.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't see Lance again in town. He didn't recall seeing him prior to yesterday, so maybe he was just passing through, or had family and was just in town for a short visit.

That he should be so lucky.

The rain came in later in the day; fierce sheets of water that swept through coastal town. Shiro packed his freezer full of venison, and scrubbed out the kitchen before considering the mess that he lived in. He wasn't necessarily _ashamed_ of it, and Lance hadn't said a word about it but the look on his face had been enough. Shiro began to pick things up, straightening, tidying the mishmash of items he had scrounged to fill his home with. He hesitated in the main room, the clothes he had been wearing the previous evening were scattered along the path to the bedroom ... as was an unfamiliar jacket, kicked half behind the couch.

Lance's coat.

Shiro groaned, picking up the coat and tossing it on the couch. He dumped his laundry in a pile inside the door to his bedroom and then stood in the doorway, staring at the jacket on his couch. He was going to have to return that to Lance, and that meant actually seeing Mr Crazy again.

Or, Shiro thought idly, he could just toss it.

No, he wasn't that sort of person. It was still raining out and his cabin already smelled enough like wet dog, so he'd wait until the evening to go into town. Maybe he'd find Lance at the dive bar again, and if not ... well, if Matt really _had_ orchestrated this entire thing, he'd know where Lance was staying. That decided, Shiro picked up Lance's jacket and shook it out once, before hanging it from the knob on his front door. He smiled at it, without thinking, and turned back to tidying up. He had plenty to keep him occupied, until the storm passed.

##

"I'd never seen him before," Matt said, and scratched at the faded scar on his cheek idly. He was lying, and Shiro _knew_ he was lying, and Matt knew that Shiro knew that he was lying, and he had no idea why he was doing this, at all. "His kind don't come into the bar very often." Matt gave the bar top an idle swipe with his rag, and cast a glance around the dim, mostly-empty bar. Early afternoon on a rainy weekday meant slow business, and aside from a few weather-worn locals in a corner booth playing faro the bar was completely empty.

"His _kind?_ " Shiro repeated, because, honestly, Matt didn't strike him as  someone who even say something like that.

Matt didn't seem perturbed by Shiro's disgust. He leaned forward a little, voice lower, and more insistent. "The _sea folk_ ," he said, and Shiro stared at him, and then looked pointedly to the men playing faro, each one of them a fisherman. Matt shook his head at Shiro and dragged the rag over the bar again. "Outsiders," he said with an exaggerated sigh, and half-turned when the door opened, triggering the small bell that hung above it to announce entrance.

Shiro picked up Lance's jacket from where he'd slung it over a bar stool, and let himself out.

The rain had brought with it cooler air, and grey skies. It felt more like fall than summer, and Lance would need his coat. Shiro looked up and down the main street and saw the neon from the diner reflecting around the corner, and remembered Lance's request from the morning, so he slung Lance's jacket over his shoulder and headed in that direction.

Unlike the bar, the diner was actually busy. And, Lance was sitting at the diner's long counter, slumped over and head lying on his arms, the cook talking to him in low tones. Shiro hesitated a moment when the cook looked at him, but Lance didn't lift his head - at least, not until Shiro draped his coat over his shoulders. Lance shot upright, but the coat didn't slide off and he shot a look at Shiro that was absolutely _agog._

"You forgot this," Shiro said, voice gentle despite the ruckus of the diner. "Thought you'd need it."

"You brought me back my _coat_ ," Lance said, eyes wide. Shiro was a little unsettled by his shock. "Why?"

"Because it's your coat?" Shiro said. He patted Lance's shoulder. "Take care, Lance."

He glanced back before he left the diner, and Lance was still watching him, almost _distressed._ Shiro shook off the weird feeling Lance's expression gave him, and pushed out the door into the fading grey evening.

 

 


	2. Selkie

"Does this town even have _one_ stoplight?" Keith asked, seated opposite Shiro with his elbows propped on the sticky table between them. Shiro glanced out the window of the diner, through the hazy grey morning to the main drag, and then back to Keith, his eyebrow raised.

"Three, on Main Street," he responded dryly, and took a bite of his eggs.

Keith rolled his eyes, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward slightly in the booth. "C'mon, Shiro," he said, tone dropping low. "You know you don't have to stay here, right? We've got a place upstate, a base of operations and it's secure. You'd be safe there." He stopped talking as the waitress stopped by to fill Shiro's coffee, although she didn't seem interested in their conversation. "Safer than here," Keith added, watching the waitress go.

"I'm perfectly safe here," Shiro said, and actually believed it, this time. "No-one's looking for me anymore. I'm not hiding." He took a sip of his coffee, and hesitated, looking at the mug, and his right hand. Then he sighed, and set his drink back on the table. "I'm touched you're so concerned about my safety, Keith, but I'm _fine._ "

He was fine. It had been two years now, and Shiro didn't feel the need to keep looking over his shoulder, to eye each person as they stepped through the door of an establishment, to look at the room and plan an immediate escape route. Shiro looked at his right hand again, remembered the technician pulling the tracking device from his wrist and crushing it under his boot. "I'm not lying," he added, because he saw the disbelief and worry in Keith's eyes.

Keith let out a little sigh, sitting back in the seat and brushing a gloved hand through his hair. He'd gotten taller since the last time Shiro had seen him, his shoulders broader. He was becoming the image of the leader Shiro knew he already was. There was a half-healed cut across the bridge of his nose, up between his eyes, and Keith saw him looking and touched the wound with the pads of his fingers. "Not trying to be like you," he clarified, and Shiro smiled.

"I know," he said.

Keith stopped by every so often, every few weeks or few months depending on what part of the country his team was working out from. He checked in with Shiro, made sure that he was safe and okay and unaffected, and it was sweet ... and he knew that there was something about all this that Keith was keeping from him, and hadn't been able to quite puzzle out what it could be. "It's good to see you, Keith," Shiro said, softly, and he meant it. Keith smiled as he stood up from the diner's booth.

"Be careful, Shiro, okay?" he said, one palm on the table. "There are hunters here, this is their territory. We've been tracking them down the coast, don't make trouble for yourself."

"Watch your back, Keith," Shiro said, and Keith nodded.

 _Hunters._ Shiro shivered slightly as Keith left the diner, acknowledging the cook with an upward head nod as he passed. The word had different meaning for them, and as far as Shiro knew he hadn't run across any yet. It was a small town, and they were wary of outsiders - as Shiro was well acquainted with. If there were hunters _local_ , though...

Shiro looked down at his plate, the eggs half-eaten. He sighed wearily, and raised his hand for the check.

He hadn't seen Lance about town, like he'd anticipated. Which was good, the last thing Shiro needed was another layer of complication in his life, but it had been a few weeks and he still thought about the young man at random, and that _bothered_ him. There had been plenty of quick fucks in podunk towns in his travels, and none had stuck with him like this, a nagging thought that he just couldn't dismiss.

By the time Shiro paid and hit the street, Keith was long gone; no surprise there. He'd turn up again soon, he always did. He smiled slightly at the thought, he always enjoyed seeing Keith even if Keith was exasperated at his refusal to get involved in the Blade. Shiro had seen too much, he was ready for peace ... and there were always plenty of other soldiers to fight Keith's war.

It was another grey day in a grey town ... but the air didn't smell like rain. Just heavy, overcast skies and choppy seas keeping the small stretch of public beach deserted. Shiro liked to walk the beach, he always had. There was something soothing about the rhythm of the ocean, the way the waves washed up behind him and eliminated the long trail of his footprints, quietly erasing the proof of his passage.

This was the long way home. He would walk the beach far past where the small handful of tourists would linger, down onto the rocky sand that ran up against the sheer cliffs. A mile or so past the cliff there was a trail cut into the forest, long and winding, but it led back to his cabin. He had nothing else to do with his day but to enjoy the ocean air; Matt wouldn't be awake until the early evening if he was in at all, and Shiro didn't have much else by the way of friends. He preferred it that way, less people that could get hurt when his past eventually caught up with him.

There was no one on the beach today, which was no surprise. It was a weekday and a gloomy one at that. He stepped carefully over the rocky shore as he passed what would be considered the edge of the public beach and onto the stretch of detritus-strewn sand that lined the base of the cliffs. High above his head here were ancient trees, the very edge of the forest butting up against the eternal swell of the ocean, where the waves crashed into the hard rock cliffs at high tide. It was low tide, though, and that provided a small, sandy footpath that Shiro very much enjoyed.

That is, until he surprised the hunters.

There were three of them with guns and nets, one out in the ocean in waders and one with a dead harbor seal at his feet. The first was struggling with another seal in the shallows, as the third man leveled his rifle at Shiro, who put up his hands and stopped in his tracks. "I don't want any trouble," Shiro said, eyes going to the dead seal pup and back to the man with the rifle.

The realization struck him, and he was weirdly relieved. These weren't _hunters_ \- they were poachers.

"You found trouble anyway, buddy," the man with the rifle said, his voice grizzled like his features were under the stained trucker cap. "Don't move."

"It's illegal to hunt seals," Shiro said, as the man glared at him. His words were almost drowned out by the panicked braying of the seal in the shallows, struggling against the cord around its midsection and trying to get at the dead seal in the sand. The one in waders struggled for a moment with it, trying to reel it closer in while the second man shouted over the noise of the waves and the distress seal.

"Shit, here he comes again!"

The man in waders half-turned just in time to catch the blow across his body as a full-grown seal - far larger than Shiro expected, and more aggressive by far - slammed into him. The blow took the man off his feet and he went down, the waves crashing over his head as he disappeared from view. The captured seal keened frantically as the other man grabbed the pole with the rope on it, and Shiro moved at the same time - the attention of the man with the rifle was on the ocean, and not on Shiro.

He turned right into the punch, helping Shiro with his task. The man went down cold, out like a light and Shiro flung the rifle away, hearing the splash as the weapon landed in the shallows. The water had foamed up, rivulets of red washing ashore as the second man, soaked to the bone, dragged the harbor seal up onto the beach. The creature was bleeding but not dead, and there was no sign of the man in waders.

Shiro wasn't concerned with him. He went low, putting his shoulder first, and tackled the only man still standing straight back into the water.

He fought hard, but Shiro was bigger and stronger. The metallic tang of blood in the air and in the surf had infected his lungs, infested his brain and it was only the thought of the man on the beach still, a witness, that kept him from tearing out this man's throat with his teeth. Shiro had him by the throat, though, water washing over his head and by the time that realization settled in the poacher was no longer struggling. Shiro released his neck and pushed himself to his feet in the shallows, and watched as the man lay motionless in the surf.

The distressed braying of the trapped seal brought Shiro back to himself, and he staggered out of the water. His unconscious friend had a knife on him and Shiro used that to cut the lariat, freeing the harbor seal. It didn't cease its noises of distress and flung itself into the water the first chance it got, swimming directly to the large seal that had resurfaced. It nuzzled the smaller harbor seal and urged it into the deep, and the wounded seal vanished beneath the water's surface.

Shiro sat back on his heels, knees in the soft sand, and watched the large seal watch him. Its snout was stained crimson, and he had no illusions about where the man in the waders went. "There's one more on the beach," Shiro said, and tossed the knife in the sand, away from him. "Do with him what you want."

By the time the seal hit the shallows, it was no longer a seal. Shiro watched as the young man slung the spotted skin from his shoulders and dropped it to the sand, walking naked to where the dead seal lay. He gathered the seal pup in his arms and cradled it to his chest. "My kin," Lance said, head bowed, damp hair curling at its ends. "They killed my _family_ and I wasn't fast enough to save them."

"I'm sorry," Shiro said, voice hoarse. He rose to his feet, sand falling from where it had clumped on the wet material of his jeans, and he looked up and down the stretch of beach. He walked to the unconscious man, nudging his trucker's hat off with his foot. "I don't recognize them, they aren't local. Poachers, I take it."

"Yeah," Lance said without looking up. "They were looking for me."

"What do you want to do with this one?" Shiro asked, unconcerned.

"Give me the knife," Lance said.

##

Lance buried the seal pup in the soft, damp sand while the tide was out. "A temporary burial," he said, bloodstained hands on his knees as the water rolled up gently behind him. "The sea will take her home."

Shiro stood respectfully back, holding Lance's coat in his arms, the spotted hide transformed into a familiar, multi-tone jacket. "And what about them?" he said, indicating the carnage behind him with the tilt of his head. "This'll bring hunters into town, you know it will."

"These were hunters," Lance said, and rose to his feet. His skin was speckled with blood, and he made no attempt to wipe himself clean.

"These were _poachers_ ," Shiro said. "Not hunters. They were after money, not lives. Well," he clarified, as Lance turned a sour gaze on him. "Not _our_ lives."

"Not _your_ life," Lance said. He brushed the sand from his legs and held out his arm for his coat. Shiro didn't move at first, and Lance folded his arms. " _Now_ you won't give it back?" he said, acid in his tone.

"You could have, I don't know, mentioned the whole selkie thing," Shiro said. "I thought you were a lunatic." He cocked an eyebrow. "I'm not from around here, remember?"

"Give me my jacket," Lance said, and after another long moment Shiro relented and handed over the jacket. When Lance pulled it on he did not transform back into his seal form, and the bafflement must have showed on Shiro's face as Lance zipped up the jacket halfway. "Surprised?"

"You look like a pervert," Shiro said. "A half-zipped jacket and no pants."

Lance rolled his eyes and held out his hand. "I need to borrow your phone. Hunk will bring me clothes."

"You can't go back in the water yet?" Now both of his eyebrows were raised. "How long do you have to stay in human form?"

"Two turns of the tide," Lance said with a scowl. "The cost for transformation is high." His hand was still out. "Phone, now."

"Yeah, about that." Shiro patted his damp shirt and jeans, and then gave a Lance a sweet, sarcastic smile. "I don't have a phone."

"No television, no _phone_ , what are you, some kind of monk?" Lance immediately started down the beach heading toward town, walking in the edge of the water as if it kept him safe. "I'll go see Hunk instead."

"So you're just going to walk into town in broad daylight with your dick hanging out? I know the sheriff doesn't give a shit, but I'm sure _someone_ will call you in." Lance stopped walking and looked back at Shiro, his scowl still firmly entrenched. "Alternatively," Shiro said, "I might know someone who has a place where you can get cleaned up and put on some clothes instead of parading into town mostly naked and covered in blood."

Lance considered this for a moment, and then the scowl crossed his face again. "It's you," he said. "You're talking about yourself."

"Well, I _do_ have a cabin on the edge of town." Shiro said with a shrug.

He looked down the beach, where the sand curved away as the cliff dipped down to meet the shore, before accepting that, despite everything, Shiro _did_ have a point. Lance sighed with aggravation and turned, stopping in front of Shiro and glaring at him, chin tilted defiantly. Shiro was unimpressed by this threat display, and smiled. "I don't _like_ you," Lance said, and stuck his finger in Shiro's face. "One bit."

"You tried to marry me," Shiro said, unwilling to disguise his amusement as Lance stormed past him, heading away from town.

"Clearly I hadn't gotten to _know_ you yet," Lance yelled back at him.

"Just you wait, then," Shiro said, and made certain not to step on any entrails as he followed Lance away.

##

Shiro tossed his waterlogged clothes in the growing pile of laundry just inside the bedroom door as he listened to the shower. Lance had been in there a while, probably intentionally using up all the hot water to be an ass, but whatever. He was a _selkie._ Shiro shook his head in amusement and sat down on the bed, scuffing his hand through his hair thoughtfully. Well, that explained all of Matt's mysterious _~sea folk~_ comments, if nothing else.

Selkies. He hadn't run across them before, they didn't stray far enough inland for him to have much experience with one. Shiro leaned over and picked up the large book on folklore from the floor beside his bed, flipping it to the index and scanning for an entry on the fin-folk. He was so engrossed in reading that he didn't notice the shower cutting off, or that Lance had stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing the last clean towel over his head and watching Shiro intently.

"Your book's wrong," Lance said, and that drew Shiro's attention away from the tale of stolen wives and infants lost to the sea. He looked up, and realized with a flush that Lance was once again entirely naked before him, and entirely too comfortable with it.

"Wrong?"

"Well, misinformed." Lance tossed the damp towel in the direction of Shiro's growing pile of dirty laundry and frowned when the mound shifted ominously. Shiro looked back at the book, tearing his eyes from Lance's naked form with a little more trouble than he expected. "But, I don't suppose books like that often get much of anything right, anyway." He put his hands on his hips and regarded Shiro, who closed the book slowly and tried not to focus on the way Lance's eyes on him made him feel.

"So, what," Shiro said. "You don't shed your skin to dance naked in the surf under the moonlight in the hopes of attracting an unwary meal?" Shiro raised an eyebrow and Lance scoffed loudly in response. He walked around the bed to where Shiro was sitting and, oh, were they doing _this_ again? Shiro wet his lips and took Lance in, and in the soft, warm light of his bedside lamp he could actually _see_ the skin he'd mapped with his mouth just a few weeks ago.

Lance didn't seem to notice that Shiro was almost salivating looking at him. He brushed his hand back through damp hair and then folded his arms, looking away with the slightest air of irritation. "We don't eat humans," Lance said, and then thought about it. "Well, _most_ humans," he amended, touching two fingers to his lips and smiling at Shiro wickedly. Shiro leaned back on his hand, felt the tension in the room tighten like piano wire as Lance regarded him. "You killed a man for me."

"Accidentally," Shiro said.

"Well, you don't seem bothered that you _accidentally_ killed a man," Lance took another step closer, his gaze tight on Shiro's face. "You've killed before."

This wasn't the conversation Shiro wanted to have right now. He tilted his head and closed his eyes a moment, exhaling a past that could overwhelm him if he let it. "In another life." When he opened his eyes again Lance was close enough that he could grab him, capture his wrist and pull him down into Shiro's lap, or beside Shiro on the bed and ...

And he couldn't do that. Couldn't _have_ that. It wouldn't be right.

"Good." Lance said, and took Shiro's jaw in his hand, turning his face back toward Lance. His blue eyes were glimmering in the light from Shiro's bedside lamp, almost _glowing_ , and Shiro wanted to wet his lips again but couldn't move his mouth. Lance's hand tightened on his jaw for a second. "I need a killer."

He kissed Shiro, suddenly savage but Shiro didn't mind, didn't fret over the unnatural sharpness of Lance's teeth as they dug into his lower lip, piercing his skin and causing blood to bead when he lifted his mouth. Shiro panted, Lance's hand still strong on his jaw, but he was locked on to Lance's eyes, so blue he could drown in them alone. Without even thinking he grabbed Lance's arms and pulled him down and Lance didn't struggle, falling back into the bed willingly, eyes still locked on Shiro's as Shiro kissed him again, crawling over his body.

It was quicker than he expected; Lance on his belly on the bed, one hand trapped between him and the mattress and squeezing his own cock tight as Shiro fucked him from behind, as deep as he could get before his knot made things difficult. Lance grunted as Shiro pulled at his cheeks, spreading them so that he could watch his cock shoving in again and again, the lube making Lance's skin shine. _Fuck_ was the only thought Shiro had in his head as he pressed in deep, bottoming out and remembering almost too late, pulling back before his growing knot could make any more trouble for him.

He came across Lance's lower back, stroking out to completion and keeping his knot covered with his hand as Lance groaned, going flat and pliant in his sheets. "Fuck, _fuck_ ," Shiro said suddenly, realizing what he'd done, knee on the bed and cock still in his hand. "What the fuck did you do to my _head?_ "

"Nothing," Lance mumbled into the sheets, body trembling with the aftereffect of his own orgasm. "Nothing, that's all you." He exhaled but didn't roll over, and Shiro sat down heavily on the edge of the bed,  his cock going soft against his thigh, knot deflating slowly. "I don't have any of the mind magic mumbo-jumbo, you're thinking about sirens an' shit." Lance sighed out another breath, but there was contentment in it. "You're a good choice."

"I thought you didn't like me," Shiro said, rubbing his face with one hand.

"Eh, you're growing on me." Lance rolled slightly onto his side, wincing for a moment before dropping back down onto his belly. "Besides, doesn't change the fact you're useful."

"I'm not a killer," Shiro said, the words sour in his mouth. "Whatever you want with me, I'm not that."

"I need help." Lance remained faced away from him. "The seafolk can visit dry land, but we can't live here." He sighed wistfully at that, forlorn, and Shiro looked back at him. "Unless we marry a human. Then we have free rein to come and go as we please."

"And why do you want that?" Shiro twisted on the bed, and Lance rolled over and sat up, looking at Shiro earnestly.

"Those poachers, they're not the only ones," Lance said, and the hate drifted into his voice. "They're not the first. There's a lot of them and they're coming from somewhere, _looking_ for something." He sat up on his knees, hands curled into fists on his thighs as he stared down at the stained and crumpled bed sheets. "They kill my family and take our skins and there's nothing we've been able to do to stop them for _generations._ I can't stay on the surface long enough to even begin to hunt down leads, not unless my tie to the sea has been severed." His eyes dragged up to Shiro's. "Not unless I am taken."

"And you picked me," Shiro snorted. "Just eyeballed me at the bar and said, yup, let's go with this guy?" He shook his head. "I can't help you with this, Lance. What about your friend, why didn't you go to him instead? I bet he'd help you out."

Lance gave Shiro a long, measured look. "You will help me," he said. "I've been watching you for a while. You _help_ people."

Okay, it was weirdly flattering that he had apparently been stalked by a seal for god-knew-how long, but Shiro shook his head again. "You should ask your friend," he repeated.

"He can't help now, even if he could," Lance said. "Besides," he added, voice gone soft. "To marry a selkie, you must take their coat and consummate your bond." He met Shiro's eye, and then looked to the door, where Shiro had courteously hung Lance's disguised sealskin on the back of his bedroom door. When Shiro looked back at Lance, eyes wide, Lance actually had the temerity to _blush_. "You've already accepted my covenant, husband."

##

He was right, Lance had used up all the hot water. Fortunately a cold shower was _exactly_ what Shiro needed right now, because it made him focus on the moment and not the rising sense of panic in his chest that he'd entered blindly into a contract with the fae. Selkies were not the same as shapeshifters, not entirely, they had _magic_ about them ... and Shiro did not have the best track record with members of the Seelie Court.

By the time he stepped out of the shower, Lance had made himself a nest on the couch again. "You sure do like that blanket," Shiro said, drying his hair with the towel Lance had left on his pile of dirty laundry and cursing himself not for the first time for letting his laundry pile up so long.

"Mm," Lance said, wrapped in the dark colored patchwork blanket. "It smells like you."

Shiro hesitated a split second but kept walking, hoping that Lance didn't notice the way he blushed at that. He _shouldn't_ , but there was a strange, casual fondness to Lance's tone that resonated in him. "You know," Lance called over the back of the couch, "if I'm going to stay here you should really get a TV."

"I don't like television," Shiro said, returning with coffee. Lance held out his hands gratefully for a mug and curled around it, sighing with satisfaction. "And who said anything about you staying here?"

Lance gave him a look over his mug. "You'd really throw your husband out?"

 _That_ struck Shiro a bit, but he swallowed the way the word lodged in his chest like a bullet. "I haven't agreed to anything, yet."

"You agreed plenty." Lance shifted his position on the couch, still wrapped tight in the blanket. "Repeatedly. Twice now." He smirked at Shiro, and Shiro groaned in response.

"Okay, I'm weak," he said. "No more sex."

"Aw," Lance pouted this time. "I do _like_ the way you feel inside me, marital congress isn't the chore my auntie said it would be." He cocked his head to the side, still eyeing Shiro over his coffee. "Although I do suppose your word is law, in the old traditions."

Now _that_ was interesting. "in the old traditions, the husband was in charge?" Shiro said, eyebrow raised.

"Yes, we had to do whatever our husband commanded. It was why selkie wives were so sought after." Lance looked down into the blackness of his coffee, and then he smiled, sharp and pointed. "But you gave me back my coat," he said. "Dismissing me. And freed from the covenant I returned of my own will, so." He shrugged. "You lost out on your chance to be the unquestioning boss in this relationship, Shiro."

"Holy shit, you are a clever little _minx_ , aren't you." Shiro shook his head, amazed at the gamble that Lance had undertaken.

"No," Lance said, and sipped his coffee. "I'm a seal."

Shiro laughed despite himself, and then stood up. "Fine, then, I guess I can't _command_ you to help me, but we've run through the last of the towels, and I'm nearly out of clothes and that's one hundred percent your fault." He nodded toward the bedroom, and the unseen but knowing mound of clothing. "It's time to do some laundry."

##

They ate dinner at the diner, while Shiro's laundry rattled around in the coin laundromat across the street. He made Lance get up and move the laundry from the washers to the dryers twice, and Lance very imperiously let Shiro know he was _letting_ Shiro boss him around before going to do what he was told. Shiro sat in the booth, farther from the door than the one he'd sat in with Keith just this morning, and thought about how the world turned on a dime when he wasn't paying attention.

"Shiro, right?"

Shiro looked away from the window, attention taken from the front of the laundromat where he was waiting for Lance to emerge. It was the line cook, actually, standing beside his booth and giving Shiro a scrutinizing look. "Uh, yes," Shiro said warily. "That's me."

The cook didn't say anything for a long moment, and then the entrance jingled and Lance's voice rang out. "Hunk! I didn't realize you were working today!" He latched onto the cook's side with a grin, and then looked at Shiro. "Oh, you've met Shiro?"

"I've seen him around town." Hunk didn't sound like he was thrilled with Shiro. "Seriously, you gave your coat to him? He already gave it back to you _once._ "

"Twice, actually."

"You know, there are ways to unwind that whole thing, right?"

"Hunk," Lance said patiently, and then kissed his friend's cheek. "You can't un-consummate a relationship. We're a little past unwinding it." Hunk flushed scarlet, and looked at Shiro with a horrified expression.

Shiro said nothing, because he really didn't want to engage in this conversation any further than he already had. Hunk let out a large sigh and shook his head, gently prying Lance off his arm and then putting both of his large hands on Lance's shoulders. "You know you can call on me for anything, right?" Hunk said earnestly. He gave Shiro a side-eye but didn't divert his gaze from Lance's. "Anything you need, bro. I've got you covered."

"A TV and a phone," Lance said without any hesitation.

##

"You don't even _live_ here," Shiro said pointedly, carrying with some prejudice the box that the television Hunk had given them had arrived in. Lance hummed happily as he cleared a space, moving the ratty recliner aside and pushing the coffee table back against the wall to serve as a television stand. "This is _my_ house."

"It's a wedding present," Lance chirped enthusiastically, as Shiro placed the box on the floor and groaned. He honestly hadn't expected the cook to deliver, nevermind turn up as they were bagging the last of Shiro's laundry for the walk home with a brand-new television in a box, and a phone as well.

"Where did he even _get_ a new television at 10pm?" Shiro asked as he moved the two bags of laundry into the bedroom. "Do I want to know?"

"Hunk has his ways." Lance was already fiddling with the television, looking at the cords. "He's a finder. It's what he's good at."

"I thought he was a cook."

"That too." Lance was distracted now and Shiro shook his head and went to put the laundry away. He would let Lance discover on his own that there was no reception out here, and it wasn't like Shiro was going to pay for cable service.

Lance eventually wandered into the bedroom to watch Shiro sort the rest of his clothes. He had carried a duffel of his own clothes, provided by Hunk from the times that he stayed with his friend; and Lance took his jacket off and hung it on the hook behind Shiro's bedroom door, where Shiro had placed it earlier in the day. "Looks good there," he said, and nodded decisively.

Shiro sighed and shook his head, not letting the exasperated grin escape. "You gonna help me put this stuff away?' he asked, indicating the towels and his spare set of sheets, woefully stained but now at least something resembling clean.

Lance shook his head. "Nah. I like watching you." He flopped onto the bed and managed not to disturb Shiro's carefully stacked pile of clothing. "Maybe when you're done we can fool around more?" he asked hopefully.

"I thought I said no more sex," Shiro said, glancing over his shoulder to see Lance with his hand unashamedly down the front of his pants and watching Shiro with an innocent expression.

"Yeah, you did say that," Lance said, and shifted, which pulled his pants down over his hips slightly. "I don't think you _meant_ it."

Shiro glanced at the stacked pile of his clothing, and then at Lance, in the process of shimmying out of his borrowed clothes, and without preamble dumped the rest of it off the bed. "Oh, yeah," Lance said with a smirk as Shiro climbed on the bed with him. "I knew it."

##

Shiro woke in the morning with his arm over Lance's chest and face nestled against the back of his neck. He blinked sleepily, but Lance didn't stir, the rise and fall of his chest soft and consistent. He smelled like the ocean, warm and with a hint of salt, and Shiro stared thoughtfully at the mop of brown hair that mostly obscured his vision.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually woken up in the same bed with someone, safe and secure.

_Keith nudging Shiro with his nose, the rain falling heavier outside. "We have to go, now."_

Shiro didn't feel like moving just yet, and if he was on the schedule to work today it would be for the night shift if anything at all, so he closed his eyes against Lance's head and thought of how _nice_ this was. Lance wasn't smarting off to him, and they were just together in this moment, warm and comfortable. Once Lance woke, though ... he knew that would change.

So he'd accidentally married a selkie. So what? There were plenty worse things that had happened to him by far, this didn't even rank. Besides, his selkie was handsome and exactly his type, the sex was fantastic, and the only downside were the three sets of remains left at the base of the cliff.

If they were lucky, everything would vanish into the maw of the ocean, devoured by predators and scavengers. If they were lucky, anything left would wash ashore much farther north or south and leave this cozy little cove unnoticed by hunters entirely. If they were lucky, nothing would come of yesterday, and Shiro would be worrying for nothing.

He should really know better by now than to wish for 'lucky.'

Lance rolled over in his arms, eyes still closed. "Mmngh, warm," he murmured, tucking his face against Shiro's chest. Shiro lifted his arm the moment Lance started to move, and smiled despite himself when Lance curled in close, seeking warmth and comfort. He stroked his fingers down Lance's back and felt him shiver, and then Lance blearily cracked an eye open. "What time is it?"

"Dunno. Early." He continued to run his fingers down Lance's spine, feeling the bumps of his vertebrae under his skin. "Sun's up."

Lance made the same noise again and squeezed his eyes shut. "Seals are nocturnal," he muttered, and wrapped his arms around Shiro.

Shiro laughed and nuzzled his head against Lance's. "They are not," he said, and Lance groaned.

"Do we really have to get up?"

"No." Both of Shiro's hands ran down Lance's back now, and settled firmly on the rise of his ass. He kneaded Lance's butt, felt the way he squirmed and that his legs started to part already, one leg hooking over Shiro's thigh. "But I'm up," Shiro murmured into his ear, and Lance shuddered and let out a small, breathy noise as Shiro ran his fingers over Lance's hole.

" _You're_ up," Lance repeated, and there would have been a teasing lilt to his voice if it hadn't gone breathless. He seemed intent on pressing his body to Shiro's, and their naked cocks touching sent small tremors of electricity through Shiro's nerves. "I can tell."

They didn't speak much more, Lance tilting his head up for a good-morning kiss as Shiro tugged him slightly up the bed. His leg dragged up over Shiro's thigh until it was situated over his hip, and Shiro's cock nudged at his hole. He was still wet there, slightly loose from the sex before they slept, and there was only a little resistance when Shiro pushed in.

Lance looped his arm over Shiro's neck and tilted his head back, eyes gone closed and mouth slightly open as Shiro slowly, _slowly_ filled him. He crawled, because Lance wasn't as loose as he thought but the sensation was intense, and when he finally bottomed out Lance came gasping between them. "That was all it took, hm?" Shiro murmured, stroking Lance's softening cock.

" _Fuck_ ," Lance sobbed, unable to form any other thoughts.

Shiro could agree but didn't speak, fucking him slowly on his side. He kept his hands on Lance's hips, and kept his pace lazy and sedate. The friction was _wonderful_ , and the sunlight creeping in through the small window above his bed caught the dust motes in the air above Lance; the entire thing felt magical in a way he'd never experienced before.

By the time his body started twitching and complaining and demanding to come, Lance had started to recover, stroking his own dick between them loosely, eyes still closed tight, head tilted in toward Shiro. Shiro took that expression to mean that Lance desired more, and without speaking he rolled them, pushing Lance down underneath him and resuming his tortuous, slow pace for a moment while Lance's eyes rolled back into his head. Once he was certain that Lance had adjusted to their changed angle he sped up his thrusts, pounding down into Lance and making the box spring squeak and Lance shudder with every impact of his cock.

Shiro was so enthralled, he almost forgot about his knot.

The bulge caught at Lance's rim and the tug of it made Lance shudder and moan, and the pressure on his sensitive gland brought Shiro back to reality fast. He thrust in deep again but this time pulled out, feeling the pop and Lance's shudder behind his navel. "No, _no_ ," Lance was distraught, hands flailing for Shiro's thighs, "inside, I want you _inside-_ " and Shiro relented, re-entered, but didn't go deep enough for his knot to sink in. He was so _close._

Shiro's orgasm fizzled white-hot, as he emptied himself inside. Lance rose up slightly off the bed, pumping his own cock and moaning, his other hand digging into Shiro's skin and leaving behind perfect half-moon punctures along the muscle of his thigh.

He hung over Lance, panting, held up on his right arm - the prosthetic was locked rigid at the elbow and was the only thing keeping him upright. Lance slid off Shiro's cock with a wet pop, dropping to the mattress beneath him, chest heaving and sweat shining on his skin and in his hair.

"Holy _shit_ ," Lance whispered, and covered his face with one arm, the other still gripping his limp dick. "Holy _shit._ "

"You okay?" Shiro croaked, wetting his dry lips.

"No," Lance said, gasped. He twitched and raised his ass, where some white fluid was streaked along his inner thighs. "Yes. Holy _shit._ "

"Will you die if I leave you here and take the first shower?" Shiro asked, taking Lance's chin in his hand and running his thumb over Lance's bottom lip. Lance shook his head wordlessly, and then closed his eyes when Shiro kissed him again. "You know," Shiro said thoughtfully, "I could get _used_ to this whole husband thing."

Lance smacked his chest with both hands and, laughing, Shiro pushed off him to stagger on weak knees toward the bathroom.

##

There wasn't a lot of hot water in the tank, so Shiro's shower was short and effective. He thought of nothing but the water hitting his skin, washing his hair, and when he stepped out from under the spray he scrubbed his head dry with one of the clean towels and stared at himself in the steam-coated mirror for a minute.

He'd let his hair go wild in the two years since he'd escaped, and the long dark hair and two day's worth of scruff really made him look like a hobo. Shiro scratched his jaw and pulled back his hair with one hand, tying it back. Then he ran the sink to shave.

Shiro was mostly through when he heard someone knocking at the front door, and froze.

He didn't _get_ unexpected visitors. Matt vaguely knew where he lived, but he'd never been here; and the only other person who knew the cabin's exact location was Keith, already gone and off to his next mission. Shiro slung the towel over his shoulder, patting his face dry only to see that the bed where he'd left Lance fucked out was empty, and that the knocking had stopped.

Oh, _no._

He rushed through the bedroom in time to see Lance opening the front door, naked as a jaybird and with Shiro's cum still leaking down his thighs. "Lance," Shiro barked, but Lance didn't look over at him, scowling instead at whoever was beyond the door.

"What do _you_ want?" Lance asked, as Shiro crossed the room he heard a familiar, confused voice on the other side of the door.

"And who the fuck are _you?_ " Keith demanded harshly, before his eyes lit on Shiro and went wide.

Well _shit_.

 

 


	3. Separation

_It hurt, more than he understood, worse than it had Before; when there were bars on the window and a cold concrete floor under his feet. Chest heaving, lying on the ground as the rain came down even harder, churning the blood-soaked soil into mud outside, destroying the traces of their passage, or their current location._

_Keith sat beside him, hair plastered to his skull with the rain, naked and bleeding. The wound on his shoulder wasn't fresh, the blood-scent old, but he didn't seem bothered by it or even to notice it. He just sat beside Shiro, brushing his fingers back along Shiro's scalp as he lay panting in the dirt. "It's okay," Keith said, his voice barely louder than the rain pouring down outside. "It's okay._

_"I've got you, Shiro."_  

## 

"Uh ... this isn't what it looks like."

Shiro winced as soon as the words escaped him; because they were trite and campy, not because Lance was standing half behind him naked still and refusing to cover up. He could sense Lance's eyes over his shoulder as he regarded Keith with some suspicion, but Shiro didn't acknowledge the unease that radiated from behind him. His cabin was small and the main room was smaller still, and with three grown men standing in it there was really nowhere for any of them to go. Shiro shielded as much of Lance's body as he could, uncertain of why he was concerned for Lance's modesty when he himself clearly didn't give a shit; but Keith didn't seem to notice Shiro's intention ... or at least, he hadn't yet.

" _This isn't what it looks like?_ " Keith repeated, as incredulous as Shiro had ever heard him. "What am I supposed to think this _looks like_ , Shiro?"

Lance slid his hand over Shiro's bare hip, just above the rise of the pants he had thrown on in haste, and gave Keith a sultry look over Shiro's shoulder. "Yeah," he murmured, pitching his voice just right as his fingers curled possessively over Shiro's skin. "What _does_ this look like, I wonder?"

There was a heartbeat of silence in which Keith's eyes went to Lance's hand before traveling back to Shiro's face, and Shiro didn't bother to try and quantify the expression Keith was wearing. "Okay," Shiro announced, slipping his arm under Lance's and removing his hand from Shiro's skin. "You need to go take a shower and get cleaned up." He turned Lance around bodily, and Lance slumped back against his hands in a visceral, full-body pout. " _Go_ , Lance."

Lance shuffled off with a loud huff of annoyance, and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him - but not without giving Keith a long, final, suspicious stare as he closed it. Shiro groaned and then turned back to Keith, standing the main room of his cabin with a frown and folded arms. "What are you doing back here so soon, Keith?"

"Who is _that_ ," Keith asked, voice flat.

"He's ... it's not important." Shiro pushed his right hand back through his hair and exhaled loudly. "What are you doing here?" There was a stretched moment of tense silence where he didn't relax his shoulders until he heard the shower start up, and then he hung his head slightly and sighed in relief. Keith was watching him with the _most_ suspicious glare and, okay, yeah. He maybe deserved that one a little. "I thought you were headed north to meet with the rest of the Blade."

"I _was_ headed north," Keith said. He cast a glance around the main room, his gaze lingering on the television set but Shiro didn't say anything, choosing instead to stalk past Keith and head toward the kitchen. He needed coffee, damn it. "I was heading up that way until I happened to pick up some chatter about sealers going missing along the coast, suspiciously near here." Keith followed Shiro into the kitchen, stopping in the threshold and leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

Shiro intently ignored Keith as he put the coffee on. He had hesitated a bare moment when he noticed that the counter had been cleared and the dishes he'd left stacked in the sink were washed; all now set in the strainer to dry. He didn't voice his surprise, though, instead opening a cabinet to retrieve a mug. "Coffee?" he asked Keith, but Keith shook his head.

"I told you to stay out of trouble, Shiro," Keith said. "I _said_ there were hunters-"

"Why do you think it was me?" Shiro asked suddenly, staring at the empty mug on the counter. Keith faltered a moment but found his footing fast.

"Why are you disappearing _sealers_ , Shiro?"

"I didn't have anything to do with _anyone's_ disappearance," Shiro said, the casual lie setting easy on his tongue. It wasn't supposed to be this easy to lie to Keith. "I was with Lance all day. You can check with him if you don't believe me."

"Uh-huh." Keith didn't sound at all convinced, which was fair, because he could usually smell Shiro's lies from a mile off. "Yeah, Lance," he said. "Let's talk about Lance for a second, Shiro."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Like hell there's not. You think I can't smell what he is?" Keith touched his finger to his nose. "You remember what happened the _last_ time you got fuck-all involved with a fae?"

Shiro raised an eyebrow, silent, inviting Keith to complete that thought.

Instead, Keith flushed an angry red and looked away, recognizing the trap when he saw it. "Okay, maybe that was both our faults," he conceded. "But you're playing with fire here, though. How long have you been seeing him?"

Shiro shrugged his shoulders loosely. "Doesn't matter. I can bring home and fuck whoever I'd like."

"Yeah, when you're not _bewitched_ by them."

"I'm not bewitched." The anger itched at the back of Shiro's throat, and he _hated_ it; but he hated more the anger that _Keith_ had in his tone. "You're mad that it's not you." It wasn't a question but a revelation, and there was a moment of stunned silence before he could even begin to regain his footing.

Keith wouldn't look at him, his face turned away and eyes shadowed by his bangs. _Damn it_. The revelation weighed him down now, tasted of regret more than anything. "Keith, I'm sorry, that was inappropriate-"

Keith pushed off the door frame with his shoulder. "You're right," he said, and his tone had shifted entirely, gone dull. "You can fuck whoever you like, it's not my business."

"Keith."

"I came back to make sure you were okay, and help you get out of town if you weren't." Keith looked around the kitchen, made extra-sure not to meet Shiro's eye as he did so. "The attacks don't look anything like a shifter, hell, they could have been some deranged lunatic with a knife. I would just lie low for a few days, wait for the whole thing to blow over." Keith turned away and Shiro shifted from the counter, pushing off it and intending the cross the room toward Keith.

The wheezing rumble of the plumbing as the shower shut off distracted him, and that allowed Keith enough time to slip away, across the main room and toward the door. "Just do me a favor," Keith said, his hand on the side of the door. "Don't let your fuck toy selkie near the ocean until they've finished their investigation. It'll get ugly, otherwise."

Shiro's heart skipped an actual beat, but he didn't make it to the door before Keith slammed it behind him. 

 ##

Lance found Shiro sitting on the couch, staring listlessly at the mug of coffee between his hands. "So... what," Lance said, taking Shiro's coffee and seating himself comfortably beside Shiro on the couch. "He an old boyfriend, or something?"

Shiro sighed out a long breath, and let his hands dangle between his knees, as Lance started the antenna scan for the umpteenth time on the television. "Or something," he said, and Lance made a noise of assent.

## 

The night air smelled heavy when Shiro stepped outside to smoke. There was only one light out back of the bar, and a few fat moths flew against it blindly as Shiro lit the cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke into the dark night.

It was a nasty habit and he abused it only for the reprieve it granted him, taking five minutes out from the dim light and dull music of the bar. There were too many people inside tonight, too many unfamiliar faces and it set his nerves on edge because he knew among those college kids and pass-through truckers were hunters there to avenge the death of their brethren.

He inhaled long and held it, not from the cigarette he held but instead ingesting the cool night air, searching it for hints of the trouble that he knew was coming.

The murders were - unofficially - the talk of the town. As he'd suspected the ocean did not keep her secrets and the bodies had washed ashore in the high tide; pretty much right on the public beach. The men weren't local but they weren't _outsiders_ either, at least two people knew of affairs and spurned women, and the gossip led to a round of head-nodding and murmured noises of affirmation, brushing aside the deaths as nothing more than revenge.

Well. They weren't entirely off the mark - it was _revenge_ , if nothing else.

"You all right?" Matt asked, not for the first time, as Shiro lugged a tub of ice from the back to refill the cooler. He leaned the tub against the counter and braced it with his body, giving Matt a pointed look. "You've been pretty weird tonight, Shiro."

"I'm weird every night."

"No argument there," Matt said, and wiped down the counter.

The danger hung heavily over his head, and Shiro could imagine the rope fraying with every exchange he had. Last call was late, closing was even later than usual; as Shiro locked the employee entrance behind him the first faint tendrils of daylight had begun to creep over the horizon. They were going to milk every last coin that they could from the outsiders and Shiro couldn't blame them for it, but he worried quietly about the man in his bed, and if he would still be there when Shiro returned.

The streetlights were still on, though the sky was slowly lightening. When Shiro crossed the threshold of the town, where the streetlights stopped, a shadow stepped away from a building to walk in the soft grass beside him. "I really thought you'd left town by now," Shiro said absently, not looking directly at the sleek black wolf matching his stride. "Isn't it dangerous for you, to be here like that?"

There was no response, there never would be. Even so Shiro could imagine it, the words curt and snippy, in Keith's familiar, irritated tone. _No more dangerous than it is for you._

"I'm perfectly safe here," Shiro murmured, answering the unspoken response, and the wolf snorted and shook his head.

Keith left him at the door to his cabin, slipping back into the darkness rather than accepting Shiro's invitation of an open door. Rose tinted the blue-gray sky, but the sun had not yet broken the horizon and the ground was still dark. Shiro sighed once, and let himself in.

Lance slept still in his bed, one hand tucked against his face and wrapped close to himself. Shiro smiled softly, amazed at how quickly Lance had wormed his way into Shiro's heart ... and he paused, wondering if there wasn't something to Keith's worry about enchantment. But that thought passed as fleeting as it had come on, because as much as he wouldn't admit it to himself he was _lonely,_ and Lance had filled that void in a way even Keith hadn't managed to. Shiro stripped and crawled into bed beside Lance, wrapping his arm around him and pulling him in toward Shiro, pressing his back to Shiro's chest.

Lance relaxed into his embrace and didn't stir, so Shiro nestled his head against Lance's and sighed out a breath, closing his eyes.

## 

 _"Shiro, it's me," Keith said, hand on Shiro's shoulders, dark hair in his eyes. His face was wrong, different, jaw squarer and eyes set more in his face. It wasn't right, but it was_ Keith _, and he didn't know what to do or make of the hand curling tight on his aching skin. "It's me," he repeated, a tinge of desperation to his voice._

 _"I've got you."_  

##

Shiro woke with Lance's mouth on him, fully roused and halfway down Lance's throat. He let out a small gasp and a moan, rocking his hips in response and Lance hummed out a noise of amusement, letting Shiro's cock slide from his mouth with a wet pop. Daylight crept in through the curtains, he didn't have any idea what time it was. "Lance," Shiro said, voice thick with sleep, his hand reaching for Lance's head.

Lance tilted his head away, a soft smile on his face. "Let me," he said, and dipped his head low again.

He didn't let Shiro come, he climbed onto his cock instead and despite Shiro's hesitation, his worry - Lance slid down on Shiro slow and languid, bliss on his features, like he was made only to take Shiro's girth.

After the first few times he sank down and rose again on trembling thighs Shiro gripped his legs and rolled his hips, rising to meet every drop of Lance's body. It made Lance squirm, his mouth falling open and loosing small, throaty sounds at every impact of their bodies. Shiro came inside, and somehow managed to keep Lance from sinking down onto his knot; although Lance's face expressed clear confusion when he couldn’t sink as far down as he had before.

Shiro pulled him down into a deep kiss and that distracted him, shifting as Shiro's cock slid free with a soft, wet sound.

"You didn't have to do that," Shiro said softly, brushing his fingers through Lance's hair as he lay across Shiro's chest.

"Wanted to," Lance said sleepily, and drifted off again there. Shiro didn't dare move, as that would disturb him, and instead closed his eyes as well, drifting off again, well sated.

When he woke, Lance was gone.

 ## 

"Do me a favor tonight," Shiro said, pulling on his jacket. Lance had half a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth, sitting too close to a television screen that was only _thinking_ about the possibility of picking up a local PEG station and hadn't quite committed to it yet.

"Mm?" Lance said, without removing or further inhaling his food.

"Stay in." Shiro said, and Lance tilted his head and finally looked at Shiro, eyebrow raised. "There's bad business afoot, and just ... I can't help you, I'll be at work. If you stay here you'll be safe."

"Safe from what?" Lance said, taking the pizza from his mouth.

"Just promise me."

Lance batted his eyelashes at Shiro. "Of course, husband."

"Cute," Shiro rolled his eyes, but he smiled as well.

##

_I've got you._

 ##

Shiro sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at Lance's sealskin.

It hung still on a hook behind his bedroom door, drab military colors brown and green. After staring at it for far too long Shiro stood up and pulled the jacket down, holding it in his hands. Even now it felt like polyester and cotton, the metal of the zipper and the aglets on the hood catching the overhead light.

He knew its true form though, had seen the spotted hide lying in the sand, held it in his _hands_ and even _knowing_ this wasn't a real jacket he still couldn't reconcile one to the other. Shiro turned the material over and sighed, and then lifted the jacket to his face, burying his nose in the collar and breathing in Lance's scent at its most potent source.

With his eyes closed, he could see the ocean.

Shiro jerked his head back and almost dropped the disguised sealskin. He stared down at the material, hands shaking slightly - that hadn't been his imagination, or a memory ... or if it was a memory, it wasn't _his._ He could hear the waves splashing the beach and taste the salt in the air; the ocean sang a particular haunting melody and that very brief snippet was enough that Shiro could feel the pull of it in his bones.

Of course.

Lance had gone down to the ocean.

Shiro buried his face in the jacket again and felt submerged by it, dragged under the waves of Lance's scent and the ocean itself, but he gleaned nothing else from the sensation and reluctantly surfaced, holding Lance's sealskin tight.

It maintained its form even now, and Shiro returned it carefully to its place of honor, hanging from the hood on the back of his bedroom door. Lance didn't have to hide his sealskin, he trusted Shiro so innately, like he _knew_ Shiro more than Shiro knew himself. He knew he could come and go as he pleased.

Shiro touched the jacket one more time, and then exhaled, opening his bedroom door. He knew where to find Lance, if nothing else.

## 

The late afternoon was cloudy, though there were snatches of blue sky that could be glimpsed every now and then; and occasionally the sun would peek out from behind the cloud cover like a lover shyly parting a curtain. Shiro resisted the temptation to put his nose to the ground and follow Lance's scent that way, instead he took the path they'd traveled earlier, the back way that roved 'round the hillside before leading down to the ocean.

He would fish down here, occasionally. Shiro didn't keep the trail clear, he'd intentionally let it fall into disrepair to discourage hikers from roving by and surprising him. That being said it took all his self-control not to circumvent it, to take the easier route that would get him there faster; and he was aware that his anxiety was unusual. Lance just went down to the water, maybe to see family in their seal-form, maybe to just enjoy the surf rolling in.

_There were hunters, about._

Shiro almost wiped out sliding down the rocky embankment, forgoing the rest of the trail, he stumbled when his boots hit the sand but he didn't slow down. This stretch of the beach was completely deserted, not that he expected Lance here. He would go to where the cliffs met the sea, where it was secluded and private; and Shiro ran along the edge of the water as the rock stretched high above him.

There was no sign of where they had met, featureless rock and merciless water, and eventually Shiro slowed and stopped, staring at the empty expanse of sand. He'd been so _certain_ that he'd find Lance out here that being proved wrong knocked the breath from his lungs.

Why did he stop here?

Something caught his eye and his nose, the faint tang of copper in the air that spoke of violence. Near the cliff there was blood in the sand, tiny speckles of it, small enough that it would escape a human eye.

Shiro crouched over the sand, put his nose to it; and knew already.

_Lance._

He whirled, teeth bared at the sound of feet slapping against wet sand; his attacker was coming from downwind. It was Keith, naked, bleeding. "Two of them," he said, panting, his palms scraped bloody and leaving streaks on his skin when he braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "They surprised him, Shiro, I'm sorry, I was too far away-"

"Where?" Shiro said, his voice less a word than a growl.

"I don't know." Keith's voice was ragged, he was still breathing hard, panting loudly. "I followed them as far as I could, I lost them at the main road." He exhaled again, a loud breath as he straightened. "Their plates were local, they couldn't have gone far. My truck's parked outside of town, if we get to it we might be able to catch up with them; I don't know how they _knew..._ "

"It was here," Shiro said. staring out at the ocean. "The poachers were here."

" _Shit_ ," Keith said. He half-turned, leaving a bloody footprint in the sand as Shiro bolted past him, head down. "Shiro!"

Shiro didn't look back.

 


	4. Past and Present

_"I missed the funeral," Shiro said. Rain streaked the passenger side window, a constant, steady patter, and he watched it with a silent disinterest. The first words he'd spoken in hours, perhaps all day, but Keith still took his time responding, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them._

_"Yeah," Keith said finally, a strange heaviness to his voice. Shiro didn't look over at him, watching the water on the window instead, forced into horizontal lines by their speed._

_Had it rained, that day? Or was it a beautiful blue sky, the autumn air crisp?_

_"Did you go?"_

_He heard Keith swallow, but still didn't move his head, listless. "No."_

_Shiro put his head against the cool glass, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried not to think of brown hair, matted with dried blood._

##

Keith was waiting for him outside the cabin. He found pants, somewhere, but that was all he wore, crouched low to the ground and head tilted slightly as he paid more attention to the voice on his phone than his surroundings. He raised his eyes to Shiro's when he heard the door click closed, but did not immediately end the call. "Yeah, that's perfect. Send the coordinates to my phone, I'll text you when we arrive."

He didn't ask who Keith was speaking with and Keith wasn't forthcoming. He slid the phone into the pocket of his jeans as he stood. "You okay?" Keith asked, giving him a once over, and Shiro swallowed around the feeling in his throat. He hadn't _needed_ to come back to the cabin and yet he was drawn here, felt like he needed to touch Lance's sealskin again - as if it could tell him that Lance was alright, somehow. He ended up tucking the jacket into his go bag, and kept one hand flat atop the matte black military duffel.

"No," Shiro said finally, truthful to a fault. Keith exhaled and gave him a scrutinizing look, but didn't take that thought deeper. He didn't have to, and they both knew it.

"There's a network that traffics in selkies that operates out of the northwest," Keith said as they walked the muddy trail toward the road. He had been gathering intel, always on the move, and Shiro appreciated his focus more than anything. "They seem to be a fairly popular export, but as a whole selkies are pretty damn difficult to catch. They can usually be controlled by possession of their sealskin, so they'll be coming after his next." Keith kept his eyes ahead of them. "Is it safe?"

"Yes," Shiro said.

Keith's ride looked worse off than the last time Shiro had seen it, although it looked like it sat on a new suspension. New tires, at least - although there were plenty of new dents and scrapes in the hand-done paint job ... and what looked like dried blood splashed across the passenger side wheel well. The rear bench seat was permanently folded down, as Keith slept in the back. Shiro slung his duffel over the passenger seat and into the back as he climbed in, and Keith pulled on a shirt and some shoes, at least pretending to be somewhat presentable.

"What do people want with selkies?" Shiro asked, finally, when they were on the road.

"You got me," Keith said. "I know they have to obey whoever holds their skin, it's a fae covenant from the Old Country." He shot Shiro a sidelong glance. "You made a contract with one and didn't know the rules?"

"It was just sex," Shiro said.

"With you it's never _just_ sex," Keith said, with an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. He glanced at his phone when it lit up in the phone holder on his dash, and tapped a few directions into it, inputting GPS coordinates. He looked up when he felt Shiro's eyes on him. "We'll get him back, Shiro. I promise."

"I know," Shiro said, and stared out at the highway ahead of them.

##

It was dark by the time they stopped, pulling off into a highway rest stop that was mostly deserted. Shiro sat on a picnic table and smoked as Keith bought dinner from a vending machine. He watched the smoke disappear into the humid evening air while Keith sat down on the bench and tore a jerky package open with his teeth. "Thought you quit."

"I did," Shiro said and took another drag, exhaling slowly. After a long moment of silence, he sighed and scratched his hand back through his hair. "What do you have?"

"Acxa tracked them to a warehouse just outside the city," Keith said, and popped the tab on his drink. "It's not a large operation, but it's big enough to be trouble." He grew silent, and the lazy chirp of hidden crickets filled the twilight air. "They aren't hunters, this lot."

There was something unfinished to his thought, something that Shiro was going to let hang in the air. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and looked at the weeds poking through the untended concrete. "Hunters don't traffic in living creatures," he said. "They'd rather see us dead."

"If you kill these people there'll be more trouble." It wasn't an admonishment, but a warning.

"I'm counting on it," Shiro said, and stubbed his cigarette out.

##

_The world smelled wrong._

_It stank of stale cigarette smoke and metal, and that same metal tang was on his tongue and in his teeth. He rolled upright, palm pressed to his eye and the bed sheets heavy and tacky to the touch. His head felt like it was splitting open, and Shiro groped blindly for the other person in his bed; but paused when his hand encountered cold, and hard, and... wet._

No.

_Shiro raised his hand to his face, eyes barely focused on the shine of red slick. His head turned on a swivel, but his eyes refused to cooperate, refused to focus, refused to resolve the horrific image into something coherent, something reasonable. Ribs, cracked and split through skin. Eyes sightless, turned to the ceiling. Blood, so much blood, too much to already be dried, on his hands and face and in his mouth and on his breath - Shiro wrenched himself from the bed, stumbled over the shoes arranged neatly and slammed into the bedside table. The glasses balanced precariously on its edge tumbled to the floor and crunched noisily beneath his heel as Shiro backed away, turning wildly and seeing red everywhere he looked._

_He fell to his knees and retched, the metal taste filling his mouth, the memory of it too new. Outside the window there was birdsong, and daylight, as the sun rose anew in the late summer sky._

##

Shiro opened his eyes to a gray morning; the cloud cover only matched by the smog belched into the air by the factories that lined the waterfront. He sat up, pushing up on one elbow, the passenger seat still reclined but Keith was no longer in the driver's seat. He wasn't sure when he'd finally drifted off, they'd been parked for a while, sitting in companionable silence and watching the boats in the harbor. When he glanced in the back he could see a black wolf curled into a tight ball and sleeping soundly, one ear occasionally flickering, on alert for anything abnormal.

Shiro gripped the driver's seat with his left arm and pulled himself fully upright, looking out over the water.

_He'd had the dream again._

He took care not to slam the vehicle's door, closing it gently so as to not wake Keith. There was only a quarter of a pack of cigarettes left and he chose to smoke another, sitting on the edge of the dock and listening to the seabirds wheel above him. The ocean looked different here, butted up against civilization the waters looked angry and dark, the waves choppy and uneven.

It made sense for the sealers to run their operation so near to international shipping lanes - if they really were trafficking caught selkies like exotic pets there would be a lot less scrutiny here. The thought made the anger curl in his gut like a living thing, dark and violent in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

There wasn't much to choose from for breakfast on this side of town. They ate what Keith picked because if Shiro had his way he wouldn't have eaten at all, busting down doors until he found the right one. He barely ate one of the breakfast sandwiches Keith had returned with, his eyes on the waking city. Lance was here, somewhere; and he felt the tug in his chest. If they had _hurt_ him....

"You should sleep," Keith said, sitting back in the driver's seat and watching the entire row of buildings with a practiced eye.

"I slept," Shiro said, and Keith gave him a Look.

He meant to argue but it seemed pointless, so Shiro appeased him by climbing into the back. The nest of sheets smelled strongly of Keith, familiar to the point of painful, and he settled in on floorboards covered by thin, well-worn blankets. After a moment of trying to get comfortable he sat up and grabbed his duffel, and pulled Lance's jacket from its depths. Keith glanced in the rear-view mirror and watched him. "Can't sleep without your security blanket?"

"Asshole," Shiro said, holding Lance's jacket to his chest as he settled back down, out of sight.

He was asleep in minutes.

##

_The world was hazy, murky, but he could still see - following a trail of bubbles ahead of him. He laughed and bubbles escaped his own mouth, he twirled in the water, twitching his tail enough to send him spiraling through the lazy forest of kelp. He was chasing or being chased, he couldn't tell and didn't care, diving deep and watching the pups try to keep up._

_He hit a wall suddenly, white and antiseptic, unyielding. It wasn't white, though, not antiseptic, old concrete, his fingers scrabbling against its surface as he sank to the floor, curling in tight, arms around his knees. He made himself small, as small as he could and Shiro was on the outside now, reaching for him but unable to touch. He couldn't get his name across the distance between them and Lance wouldn't lift his head. Shiro could form his mouth in the shape of his name but his lungs were filled with water, he couldn't, he was sinking to fast to be seen, to be heard._

_Lance lifted his head finally and it was wrong. His hair was matted black with blood and his eyes were sightless milky orbs - his skin was sloughing loose on his skeleton, pulling away and revealing where his throat was torn open, empty of blood._

_Water bubbled from Shiro's mouth as he screamed but there was still no sound, and he couldn't kick himself free as he sank deeper into the abyss._

_You can't save me,_  he said, and his voice wasn't Lance's.

##

"Remember when you took me to get a rabies shot?" Keith said out of left field and halfway through a sack of cheap, greasy cheeseburgers.

Shiro lifted his head from his hand. "Which time?" he asked dryly, and Keith snorted, inhaling the last few bites in one go.

"Asshole. The first time."

"Yeah. You tried to bite the vet, and the vet tech. And me, but turns out stuffing my prosthetic into your mouth was a good way to get you to stop trying to take a chunk out of everything that moved." Shiro narrowed his eyes. "That was back when I still thought you were just a way-too-intelligent mutt."

Keith had a fond look on his face. "I'm still a mutt, if you ask Kolivan. Anyway, I ran into that vet tech a few months back." He crumpled his wrapper and tossed it into the bag. "She knew, you know. The whole time."

" _What._ "

"I know, right?" Keith laughed. "She was waiting to see what I was up to, apparently."

"She - I took a full-blown werewolf into a vet without realizing it and she was just _waiting to see what would happen?_ Did she have a bet going on if the headline would be 'local college student mauled in own home' or something?"

"I wouldn't have mauled you," Keith said, insulted. "You let me sleep in your bed."

"Keith, I thought you were a _dog._ "

"Eh." He shrugged. "You fed me good shit and looked after me. It was a good deal. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you didn't catch me making a sandwich that one night. Anyway, she says hi, that's the point of the story. She's a witch."

Shiro let out a long, exaggerated sigh, and shook his head, finally reaching into the brown sack for a cheeseburger himself. "She _knew._ "

They ate in companionable silence, the tension that had stretched throughout the afternoon finally broken. They were pointed at a specific warehouse now, staking it out and watching for the best opening to take.

Shiro wrinkled his nose suddenly, the small bit of good humor he'd found evaporating as he recognized a heavy scent now permeating the air. Keith lowered his burger, nose wrinkling as well. "Blood," he said, and Shiro was already out of the truck, half-eaten burger hitting the pavement behind him. " _Shiro!_ "

His nose was keener in his other form and he wore it already, the loss of his clothing barely an afterthought. The scent originated from a dingy white service van, backed up to one of the entrances. There was a man holding the door open wearing waders over a camo outfit, he had only started to look in the direction that Shiro was coming from when Shiro was on him.

There was a heartbeat of pure terror in the man's eyes before Shiro's jaws closed on his throat.

He fell backward, into the open service door and his body prevented the door from slamming itself shut and locking them out. Shiro hit the ground on all fours, the man's blood splashed across his muzzle, and Keith ran up behind him, still on two feet and carrying an empty duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You know, we _talked_ about this," Keith said, an edge to his voice as he yanked on the door to the back of the service van. The blood-smell was thickest there, and Shiro's heart thudded against his ribs in terror.

The van was empty. There were half a dozen different sealskins stretched out, still fresh. These were actual _skins_ , not selkie skins, marked with unfamiliar patterns and the scent of death clung heavily to them. Keith exhaled and leaned against the van's door. "Okay," he said. "We're going to take this _slow_ , Shiro, and clear the place - don't go charging off without me..." he half-turned as Shiro bowled into the door and it bounced off the concrete wall behind it, taken off one hinge by the force of the blow. The bang of it hitting the solid concrete mostly disguised the crunching noise of Shiro's back paws caving in the dead man's chest cavity. Keith sighed as Shiro's hindquarters and tail disappeared into the warehouse.

"And _I'm_ the reckless one," Keith muttered, stepping carefully over the body and into the warehouse behind him.

##

Lance's scent was ingrained into his very bones. Shiro kept his head down, not that it helped much - he was very large, in passing, and there was an alarm going off already, people shouting and running about. A man attempted to shoot him with a shotgun, but he went down as easily as the first, the scatter of buckshot grazing his shoulder and embedding in the wall behind him. Shiro didn't notice the sting of the scrapes or the tracks of red through his white fur, the only thing on his mind was _Lance._

The place was low tech and labyrinthine; temporary walls and temporary doors, all made to be moved in a hurry. It wasn't anything like his nightmares, gleaming walls white walls that reflected, dark tables and magenta-hued lights, and that kept him moving, kept his nose to the ground, trying to pick out Lance's scent the myriad of smells that assaulted his senses.

Several people saw him coming and immediately barricaded themselves behind doors, dropping whatever they were carrying. Shiro ignored them; Keith was behind him, Keith would deal with them. He caught a whiff of salt and spun, barreling past a man in a lab coat who dropped his clipboard and screamed, high-pitched and panicked.

He found the holding area past the man in the coat, a row of cells divided by concrete walls and chain-link to keep them in and for the first time since he barreled into the building he hesitated, the memories nearly overwhelming him. It wasn't the same and yet it _was;_ there were others in these cells, unfamiliar faces with that same hauntingly familiar, haggard expression. Shiro nosed at the chain-link boxing in the first cell and the girl in the cage shrunk back against the wall, shaking, folded in on herself and watching him, terrified. Shiro realized she was scared of _him_ and drew back, head low, and along the corridor, toward where Lance's scent was the strongest.

He was three cells down. Not unlike the girl in the first cell he was huddled back against the wall; his eyes grew wide when he saw Shiro standing outside the chain link. Shiro's tail lifted, he pawed at the floor for a moment and Lance got to his feet unsteadily. It had only been two days, but Shiro's heart _sang_ when he saw Lance unfurl, uninjured - although he didn't step any closer to the chain link that fenced him in.

They stared at each other, across the distance. Then Lance wet his lips and nodded to the door that was padlocked shut. "The door," Lance said, his voice hoarse. "It'll be the weakest point."

Shiro snuffled at the lock for a moment, and then tried biting through the thick, protected chain. When that proved futile he threw his entire body against the frail metal, rattling the entire wall of chain link. The door warped slightly but didn't break and Shiro rammed into it again and this time, hear someone scream from farther down the row - there was a faint drill of gunfire in the distance that he ignored.

The third time that he threw himself against it the door buckled inward, enough so that Shiro was able to squeeze between the warped door and its frame, popping into the cell and shaking himself off once. Lance flattened himself against the wall, watching Shiro warily as Shiro let out a small whuff and cocked his head.

They stared at each other in silence, eye to eye, until Lance's shoulders relaxed and he let out a small sigh. "You're covered in blood," he said, not as an admonishment, and Shiro rose from four feet to two, taking a hesitant step forward and prepared for Lance to shrunk back farther. He didn't, he stepped into Shiro's arms and kissed him, wincing only slightly when Shiro's hand cradled the curve of his head. The pad of Shiro's thumb ran rough over where his skin was torn, half-healed and matted with dried blood.

"They hurt you," Shiro said, his voice raw.

"It'll heal," Lance said, and smiled. "How many of them did you kill?"

"Not enough," Shiro said, and turned his head as they both listened to more gunfire. "I have to help Keith. You stay here, rescue your friends."

"Mm," Lance put his hand on Shiro's face and turned it back to him. "Want to see a neat trick?"

Shiro raised an eyebrow, and Lance kissed him again, gentle and slow as if they had all the time in the world to do this here. He swayed, slightly, and Shiro swayed with him, hands on Lance's hips. He keened slightly when Lance drew back, eyes glittering strangely under the light - no, they weren't glittering at all.

They were _glowing._

Shiro smiled and kissed Lance's forehead before Lance slipped out of Shiro's arms completely. "You might want to get back," Lance murmured, and his voice echoed strangely. Shiro did not back away but instead moved to the side, his paws hitting the ground firmly, his head at Lance's chest. Lance smiled as he closed his glowing eyes, and he curled his fingers into the white fur on the back of Shiro's neck as the entire building started to vibrate.

##

By the time Keith found them, all of the chain link had been torn down. Shiro hung back a little because the others were afraid of him, but one of the youngest selkies was barely more than a child and sat happily between his front paws, hugging one warm leg and watching Lance check on each person individually. That warmed his presence to some of the others, but they still kept their distance; and they gave Keith startled looks of distrust when he joined them, too.

Keith was still clothed, his skin freckled with blood and there was a significant tear in the sleeve of his favorite leather jacket. He was carrying his dagger in one hand and a sawed-off in the other. Shiro flicked his ears at Keith's arrival, and Keith gave him - and his newest friend - a look, before turning to Lance.

"Is this all of them?"

"That I know of," Lance said, exhaustion tinging his voice. Shiro stood carefully and moved to Lance's side, letting Lance lean against him for support. Lance ran his fingers through Shiro's fur without looking over to him. "It took a lot of out me," he murmured. "My magic."

"I knew that was too centralized to be an earthquake," Keith said. "I thought selkies didn't _have_ magic, out of the water."

"Know everything about selkies, do you?" Lance said, and then sighed when Shiro butted his head under Lance's arm. "We have to find their sealskins, so that they can go home," he said.

Keith tilted his head. "That won't be a problem," he said, and crouched, placing the shotgun on the ground before sliding the strap of his duffel bag over his head. He unzipped the military bag and looked up at Lance, before stepping back.

There was an array of unfamiliar clothing in the bag that Shiro had never seen before - and some of it was speckled with the same blood that was on Shiro's skin. He had clearly been busy while Shiro had been tearing through the facility looking for Lance. One of the selkies who had been keeping back let out a soft cry and scooped up a sweater that was in the top of the bag, another crouched down and began rooting through the clothing as the others clustered with her.

Outside, they watched as one by one the selkies took their true form, vanishing into the water outside the warehouse. The little one had ridden on Shiro's back outside, and kissed the fur between his ears before she was bundled up by her mother, wrapped in a blanket and thrown into the water.

"Thank you, my prince," she said, curtsying to Lance before diving off the pier.

Shiro and Keith both looked at Lance, who ignored them both, watching as the seals surfaced and played in the open water before disappearing into the distance. "We aren't done here," he said, finally, and Shiro nodded, looking back at the warehouse.

"I've disabled the cameras," Keith said. "We don't have any hostages. Do you want to torch it, or should I?"

"This isn't the entire operation," Lance said. "Just a hub. There's so many of them out there." His eyes glittered again, dangerously. "I will destroy them all."

"Right now?" Shiro asked, and Lance leaned back against him as Shiro slid his arm across Lance's shoulders. Lance sighed and closed his eyes.

"Maybe after a nap."

##

"No funny business," Keith warned, as Shiro settled down next to Lance in the back of Keith's truck. "I mean it."

"No funny business," Shiro agreed, his arms around Lance's already-sleeping form. The firelight reflected through the tinted windows, casting a molten shadow over him, and Shiro smiled, brushing his fingers over Lance's cheek.

He didn't sleep, as Keith drove. His eyes were on Lance the entire time, the rise and fall of his chest, the soot and the blood on his skin, the way his face softened when Shiro leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

They washed off under the stars, Keith's truck backed up the water in a secluded spot, the city lights barely a gleam in the distance. "How long have you known?" Shiro asked, sitting with his legs hanging out the back of the Jeep, watching Lance stand in the shallows and stare at the sky. Lance turned and looked back at him, head cocked; with the moon behind him it was impossible to read his expression.

"Since the first time I saw you," he said, and hiked himself up to sit next to Shiro on the blanket. Shiro frowned at him, and Lance leaned against him, their bare shoulders touching. "Does that bother you?"

Shiro didn't respond to that, staring at the moonlight reflected on the water. "A prince, huh?" he said instead, and Lance sighed exaggeratedly, shoulders slumping as he slid down, going from leaning against Shiro to laying dramatically across his lap.

"It's not what it _sounds_ like," he said, flopped over.

"Oh?" Shiro said, eyebrows raised. "Sounds to me like I married into royalty."

Lance barked out a laugh that startled clearly startled himself, and he covered his mouth with one hand. Shiro laughed at him, and Lance smacked his chest with the back of his hand. "It's not funny," he complained, and Shiro gave him a flat look that he managed to hold for maybe two seconds before they both sputtered into honest laughter.

"You're both ridiculous," Keith said, walking dripping out of the water, and that just set them both off again.

##

"You're sure you'll be fine?" Shiro said, elbow hooked out the driver's side window. Keith wore a duffel and sunglasses, and he gave Shiro a familiar smirk.

"You act like I've never hitched a ride up the coast before," he said, and at the alarmed expression on Shiro's face he shook his head in disappointment. "Krolia's meeting me," he said. "Don't look at me like that. Take care of Red, I'll be back to pick her up in a few weeks."

" _Red?_ " Lance said, from the passenger seat, his bare feet on the dash. He leaned forward just a little. "The paint job on this hunk of junk is _red?_ "

"Take care of yourself, Keith," Shiro said, and managed to ruffle Keith's hair before he could duck out of range. He flipped Shiro off, who honked and waved, as they drove off.

##

_"You've got that look on your face again," Keith said as he sat opposite Shiro on the quad. He wasn't supposed to be there, but Keith excelled in turning up in places where he wasn't supposed to be. "Who is it this time?"_

_"It's none of your concern," Shiro said, and pulled his tray of food close but wasn't quick enough to stop Keith from helping himself to Shiro's fries._

_"It'll be plenty of my concern whenever he starts sleeping over," Keith said. He jabbed at Shiro with his fry, before popping it into his mouth. "Besides, what's he gonna think about me, hm?"_

_"He'll think I have a very friendly_ dog _," Shiro hissed back. "Don't ruin my chances with this guy, all right? I like him, a lot. And I think he likes me, too."_

_"Fine," Keith said. "But you owe me one, and I know exactly how I want it repaid already. Deal?"_

_"Yeah, yeah," Shiro said, and looked back down at his book._

##

"How long have you been a werewolf?" Lance asked Shiro as they laid in the back of the Jeep, listening to the distant sound of the highway. He flattened his hand on Shiro's chest, fingers tracing a faint, textured scar. "As long as Keith?"

"Keith was born a wolf," Shiro said drowsily, still coming down of his high. He cupped Lance's cheek, then brushed his fingers through his short hair, looking for the head wound and finding what little remained. Lance was a fast healer. "I'm not like Keith."

"You're not tied to the moon, though," Lance was curious.

"No."

"You weren't born a wolf," Lance said, "and you're not tied to the lunar cycle. What _are_ you, Shiro?"

"Mm," Shiro said, and yawned, already drifting off. "Your husband."

  



	5. Werewolf

Shiro stuck both of his thumbs in Lance's mouth, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the row of needle-sharp teeth. Lance sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, and Shiro chuckled, head tilted in close. "These," Shiro said, managing to prick his thumb on one of Lance's teeth despite his excess of caution, " _these_ are why I don't want your mouth anywhere near my dick today, Lance."

Lance gripped Shiro's wrists with both hands and tugged him free of Lance's mouth. "They're not always that sharp," he said, with a note of complaint in his voice.

"Just when you miss home."

" _You're_ my home." Lance's response was instant and heartfelt and Shiro paused, having not intended to provoke such an emotional response to a flippant remark. He cupped Lance's cheek with his palm and tilted their faces together, sharing the same breath without touching their lips.

"And you're mine," Shiro said softly; he let Lance close the distance between them to claim Shiro's mouth, to curl his hand in Shiro's loose hair. Shiro laughed against Lance's mouth, against his desperation to devour all of the air in his lungs, and Shiro put a small space between them finally.

"You really won't let me suck you?" Lance said, dejectedly, and Shiro combed his fingers through Lance's short hair, giving him a bemused look.

"Maybe later," he said.

Dusk painted Lance's brown skin bronze. The ocean air was fresh and clear, and there was no one around for miles, Shiro was certain of it. They had driven for hours, and aside from a mountain lion they almost hit a few miles west, they hadn't passed anyone - or any _thing_ \- that would disturb them out here. Shiro traced his hand down Lance's jaw and plucked at the tee shirt he wore, some touristy kitsch Keith had stashed in the back of the truck. _Better than nothing,_ Shiro had said when Lance made a face at the material.

"Lance," Shiro said, and took Lance's hands in his own. Lance looked down at him, mismatched hands hold Lance's own, and then back to Shiro's face, puzzled.

"You can't be thinking of asking me to marry you," Lance said realistically, and Shiro laughed despite himself, inviting another smile from Lance. "You're a little late to the party on that one."

"No, no," Shiro brought both of Lance's hands to his face and kissed them, earning a pleased expression from the tactile creature. "We fulfilled the covenants of your oath already, I'm not under any illusions concerning that." He looked at Lance's face and felt suddenly exposed, shy. "I'm a werewolf."

"Yeah, no shit," Lance said. "You turning into a giant wolf and all right in front of me wasn't anything resembling a clue. I'm stunned."

"Smartass," Shiro said affectionately. "I've just ... I've never said that out loud, to you. We've never really..." Shiro half-shrugged, and tilted his head. "Introduced ourselves."

Lance _laughed_ , hard and loud, and leaned forward into Shiro's space, their fingers threaded together as he brushed Shiro's nose with his own. "I'm Lance," he said, blue eyes bright and bubbling with his amusement. "And I'm a selkie."

"And a prince," Shiro added.

"Eh," Lance shrugged. "That's less important." He nudged Shiro. "Your turn."

Shiro smiled at him. "My name is Takashi Shirogane," he said. "And I'm a werewolf."

Lance wrinkled his nose and frowned at him. "That entire mess is your _name_? No wonder you go by Shiro." He yelped when Shiro tugged him directly into Shiro's arms, but then relaxed into him, tucking his face against Shiro's rough jaw. "I knew I picked well," Lance murmured happily.

"So," Shiro said, and Lance lifted his head quizzically. "About our marriage."

That earned another frown. "If daytime television has taught me anything-" Before Lance could finish that thought Shiro pressed a finger to his lips.

"We're married according to the covenants of the Selkie, the finfolk - correct?" Lance nodded, Shiro's finger still pressed to his lips and keeping him silent. Shiro's expression softened, somewhat. "In that case," he said. "I want to take you as my mate."

Lance blushed in the twilight. "We're not married by werewolf terms?" He tugged Shiro's finger from his lips and grinned, the blush not fading. "Despite the _copious_ amount of sex we've had?"

"Nope," Shiro said. He returned Lance's grin, although it was a little more sheepish. "For me to claim you, you need to have, uh..." he coughed and had a hard time meeting Lance's eye. "Taken my knot."

There was a moment of silence that stretched cavernously between them and Shiro was forced to face Lance head-on - but the expression on his face wasn't one of judgment. Lance was staring at their still-clasped hands and when he realized that Shiro was staring at him, waiting for a response, he blinked rapidly. "I'm still wearing my clothes, he said, dumbly, and that wasn't exactly the response Shiro had been waiting for.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I guess my enthusiastic response was entirely in my own head then, huh?" Lance didn't wait for a response, instead he smacked Shiro's chest with his free hand. "I can't believe _that's_ what it was, I was trying to figure out why you were so weird about sex!"

"I'm not weird about sex."

"Yeah, sure you're not," Lance was amused. "I could tell you were hiding something, you're not the first man I've fucked." Shiro frowned at him and Lance leaned in close, kissing the tip of his nose. "First one I've ever let touch my sealskin, though. Even as a jacket."

Another moment of silence passed between them as they stared at each other in the sunset. Then Shiro let out an amused sigh, and Lance wiggled in close against him, kissing him deeply. "So," Lance said when they separated again, flushed pink to his ears, "what, do I just straight-up ask you for it? Knot me?"

The words struck Shiro in the chest like he'd never felt before, and he felt a growl build in the back of his throat. "Say it again."

"Fuck, _knot me_ , Shiro," Lance said, voice dropping in anticipation, and Shiro kissed him again, pushing him down into the soft grass.

They'd fucked like this before, in Shiro's bed, in the back of Keith's truck; but Shiro had  been careful never to go too deep, not to let himself get too carried away. He left that care to the wind now, the breeze off the water cool on their fevered skin. Lance bounced his heel off the back of Shiro's thigh as he pressed in again, pushing Lance past a limit he wasn't aware existed. Lance shuddered and shouted his name, and Shiro slowed his pace, enjoying the feeling of Lance constricting on him, trying to hold him inside.

He knew the feeling well when it built, teetering on the edge of his orgasm. He'd gotten Lance over the hump himself once, and Lance was still slowly pumping his own cock - he probably didn't even realize he was doing it, his other arm flung over his head as he watched Shiro with a glazed expression. Shiro could offer him the out right now and he wouldn't hold it against Lance to take it, but Lance shook his head slowly, as if sensing Shiro's sudden hesitation. "Do it," he whispered, voice scraped raw from the shape of Shiro's name, as if the act would occur on his command. Shiro gritted his teeth and set his jaw, rocking into Lance hard and fast.

It was good, it was _so good_ , and he almost couldn't come because he was so overwhelmed with the feeling. They were doing this now, Lance's skin kissed gold by the dying light of day, and Lance let out an exhausted, aggravated noise, his hand reaching for Shiro's sack, intent on milking the orgasm out of him, if he must.

That was all it took, really, for Shiro to go off. Lance let out a noise of satisfaction as Shiro painted his insides white, but the real fun was just beginning and Shiro pressed forward, holding himself in deep and leaning down to kiss Lance thoroughly. "Last chance," Shiro panted, and Lance pulled him back down into another, passionate kiss.

Shiro watched Lance's face as his knot thickened inside. He was puzzling out the shape of Shiro, trying to isolate this 'knot' idea when it pulsed and grew larger, locking them together. Lance's eyes went wide and then lidded, he wanted to arch his back against the loam but Shiro held him in place, kept him pinned down and rocked his hips slowly so that Lance's pleasure took precedence.

He knew not to move the knot too much, because it was far too much for most humans - but he kept forgetting himself, and forgetting that Lance was not, in fact, most humans. He bucked underneath Shiro, kept rocking his hips forward and back, desperate for another chance to get off. Shiro soothed him and held himself deep, waiting for Lance's shudders to finally end.

"This is my knot," Shiro said as Lance shuddered again, clenching on his cock. He tilted forward over Lance, pushing his legs back to his chest and forcing the knot even deeper as he did so. "By the seafolk's laws you married me," Shiro said, rocking his hips so slowly, enjoying every spasm from Lance. "But now I claim _you_ as my mate." He dragged his mouth down Lance's jaw, nuzzling down his neck until he found the perfect place. Lance let out a small sob when Shiro bit him, he rocked his hips hard and jerked, fingers clawing at Shiro's back as another orgasm tore from him, his cock dribbling wet against his belly.

Shiro rumbled in amusement as Lance hiccuped, barely able to breathe through the emotions roiling in him. He ran his tongue over the torn flesh, lapping the blood from Lance's skin and holding him close. Lance was _his_.

He ended  up rolling them, so that they lay on their sides in the grass, Lance's head tilted in toward Shiro's and tears tracked down his face. Shiro kissed him, wiping his tears with his left hand. "Hey," he said, softly. "You okay?"

"I don't know," Lance's voice was raw, shaking. "I don't know, I feel so _strange_. It's so overwhelming, I don't understand it..." He worried at his bottom lip, teeth scraping thin red lines of blood. Shiro kept stroking his face, kept soothing him, cradling him close as they remained locked together. Lance's expression shifted, a sudden realization crossing his face and making his eyes fill with tears again.

Shiro, alarmed, held Lance's head and stared at him. "Lance?"

"I love you," Lance said, stunned by the revelation.

Shiro blinked, slowly, and then let out an amused, if slightly exasperated, sigh. "I love you too, Lance," he said, nuzzling Lance's face as he spoke.

"No, you don't understand," Lance said quietly. "Fae can't ... we can't fall in love, Shiro." Shiro lifted his head then, staring deep into Lance's unearthly blue eyes. "This shouldn't be _possible._ "

"But it is," Shiro said. "You're looking at me, right now, and telling me what's in your heart."

"I don't understand what's happening to me," Lance's arms curled around Shiro's neck, legs tight over Shiro's hips. He was shaking hard, breaths coming in panting gasps despite Shiro's soothing kisses, clenching hard around the knot that locked them together still. "Shiro, fuck, I... _fuck-"_

Lance let out a shuddering exhale, and went limp.

After a moment, Shiro kissed Lance's forehead gently and pulled him close. It would be a while before his knot went down enough for him to disengage, and Lance wouldn't wake up for it, anyway. "I do love you," Shiro said softly. "Despite everything, Lance, I _do._ "

Lance didn't respond, of course, and Shiro tucked Lance's head against his neck and closed his eyes, relaxing in the grass and drifting as he listened to the distant sound of the waves hitting the shore.

##

Lance didn't wake up even as night fell and the moon rose. Shiro's knot went down as it always did, and he finally, reluctantly pulled free. Shiro cleaned them both up with towels and kissed Lance's face as he moved him from the soft grass to a softer quilt. He laid beside Lance on the blanket and watched the stars, ignoring the way the full moon sat low on the horizon and rippled in his blood.

He wanted to run wild in these untamed woods, throwing his head back and braying excitedly about his conquest, his _mate_ . He wanted to announce it to the world now, he'd laid claim and _been_ claimed, and his heart was so full of the emotion it made sleep impossible. He would not leave Lance's side, however, because these were untamed woods and the sleeping selkie was vulnerable like this, naked and beautiful under the moonlight.

The scent of a potential predator caught his attention, skulking around in the bushes and Shiro rose on four legs, lips pulled back in a snarl. He wouldn't allow anyone to taint this sacred space, this small patch of grass in the moonlight where his lover lay, and the white wolf stood tall in the clearing, growling softly.

The mountain lion never breached the underbrush that surrounded the clearing, but Shiro stood at alert until its scent faded away, lost in the cool evening air. He sat vigilant beside Lance's sleeping form, until Lance rolled against him, one hand seeking Shiro's warmth. When he laid down beside Lance, Lance immediately buried his face against the warm fur of Shiro's side, and his ears flicked as Lance sighed and settled back to sleep

Shiro didn't close his eyes, keeping watch until the first rosy rays of daylight began to lighten the morning sky.

##

"Okay," Shiro said over breakfast - pancakes as only a truck stop could make them, piled high in front of a wide-eyed Lance who looked like he'd hit the proverbial jackpot - "so, if you're a prince, does that make me a prince-consort, or what?"

He cradled his coffee blearily, between his hands, leeching as much warmth and alertness from the mug with his left hand as he possibly could. He was enjoying the sensation immensely ... almost as much as Lance was enjoying his stack of pancakes.

"Not exactly," Lance said, or at least, Shiro _thought_ he said because his mouth was crammed entirely too full to be clearly understood. Shiro raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee, waiting for clarification - and for Lance to swallow. Which he did, with great gusto, and let out a little satisfied sigh. "Yeah, sure, I'm a _prince_ , but I'm like ..." he rolled his eyes heavenward and then started to count on his fingers. When he reached his second hand he gave up and shrugged. "Way too far away from the throne to even worry about it."

"There's a throne?"

"Yeah, it's made out of whale bones and the timbers of schooners lost to the deep." Lance stuck a large fork full of pancakes into his mouth and only just missed dribbling syrup everywhere. He rolled his eyes at Shiro's thoughtful expression and swallowed. "No, there's not a throne, we're _seals_ , we don't sit on thrones."

"But you have a monarchy."

"Someone has to represent us to the Court," Lance put down his fork. "It's not like there's a proper selkie society or anything, everyone just does their own thing to survive, we're just..." he gestured with one hand, and Shiro nodded although he didn't quite get the gesture. "Living our lives and stuff. My family was chosen by the Court to be representative of our kind, is all. It's an honorary title."

Shiro smiled. "Prince Lance the humble."

Lance rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Don't call me that."

"Apologies, my prince."

Lance pointed his fork at Shiro. "That, don't do that either. It's bad enough you and your buddy know, can you imagine who'd be breathing down my neck if they thought I had any special ~selkie prince~ bullshit magic? There's be a whole line of treasure hunters up our asses."

That was a fair point, all told, so Shiro left it at that.

They left the diner as the sun rose high in the misty morning sky. They hadn't gone straight home, yet - Shiro was a little pleased that he defaulted to _home_ when he thought of his modest little cabin - but instead they had driven some back roads, staying off the main highways. There was no guarantee that some security camera hadn't picked up on Keith's Jeep so he switched the plates when they pulled off the side of the road for Lance to take a piss, and they continued on their way.

"Where are we headed today?" Lance asked, settling a pair of truck-stop sunglasses on his face.

Shiro hesitated when he climbed into the Jeep. Lance sensed his hesitation and gave him a shy glance, unusual for him. "Where do you feel like?" Shiro asked as he closed the door. Lance let out a long, thoughtful sigh, and then wiggled in the passenger seat.

"This has been fun and all," he said, "but I really want to have sex in a bed again." He looked over his sunglasses as Shiro laughed, eyebrow raised. "Hey, it's not your ass that's getting grooves in it from the floorboards."

"Fair enough," Shiro said, resting his forearm on the steering wheel. Lance looked at him in surprise when he reached his prosthetic arm across the space between them and took Lance's left hand, leaning it over and tugging it to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it, before threading his fingers through Lance's. "I love you, Lance," Shiro said, firmly.

Lance flushed scarlet to his hairline. He clearly wanted to jerk his hand away, but didn't, and after a moment relaxed. "I love you too," he said, the words clearly unfamiliar but with the same emotion behind them. Then, Lance smiled, and Shiro smiled back.

"Let's go home," Shiro said, and put the car into gear.

 


End file.
